Sneezing the day away

I hate taking sick days. For some reason I feel really guilty recuperating in bed when I know how much work is waiting for me. My mind somehow thinks of sick days as something you should only use when you are near death. Thankfully I don't often get sick. In fact, it has been well over year since my last sick day (due to a case of strep last winter)and I think my only other sick day took place the year before that (due to a bout of food poisoning).

I could accept taking time off for strep because it is contagious, and because they weren't going to let me stay after I passed out in the hall at work. And the food poisoning I accepted because, well, getting to work on public transport would have proved problematic...

Then I took Monday off because of a cold. I woke up determined to go to work, showered, dressed myself and then when I went to put my coat on all of the sudden I started to feel...sick. Ross helpfully pointed out that this is because I was not well, a conclusion he reached after listening to me croak, sneeze, sniffle and cough all weekend. At his urging, I went back to bed and phoned in sick. I convinced myself that one day of rest would give my body enough time to heal.

Determined to tackle the emails, problems, and mounds of paperwork waiting for me, I went in to work on Tuesday, despite feeling pretty gross and discovered why they tell you not to operate heavy machinery while under the influence of cold medicines (They should include a warning about operating computers or responding to emails too.). Let's just say my work was than impressive in a number of ways.

I have remained unable to shift this virus all week and I haven't even seen any improvement. Apparently the cold virus can't be overcome by sheer force of will. So I sit here during my lunch break in a haze of congestion and aching, accepting that my evening plans will once again include my bed, a box of tissues and a jar of vapour-rub.

I might even do the unthinkable and go home early.